Remember the Third of November
by Laces Kai
Summary: On the 10th of October 2015, JK Rowling tweeted "If lots of you tweet #AsOne to support Scotland, you can have Sirius's birthday!" later that day, Scotland won (with many more fans) and JK Rowling let us know "And Sirius Black was Born on the Third of November." Birthday week celebration series of one-shots (strictly 1500 words) of how everyone remembers the Third of November.
1. November 3, 1993

_The first one-shot was written as part of Jilytober in 2015._

 _One-shots will be published in the order they were written here and starting November 1st will be published for seven days on Tumblr (fanaticfandom) in timeline order._

* * *

 **November 3, 1993.**

She had always known his birthday. For as long as Sirius Black had existed in her world she had been privy to his birthday celebrations. The marauders had seen to it.

James had seen to it.

Lily stared worriedly at her husband. James sat twitching with anxiety as he leaned his body out into the night. In the darkness of the midnight hour, his whole body seemed to be fading.

"James…" Lily whispered.

"He will be here." James whispered back stubbornly.

Lily stood anchored in the shadows of the astronomy tower. She wanted to argue with him. She had always wanted to argue with him when he was being so willfully stubborn. But it was just his steadfast headstrong notion that had brought them here at all, on this night, for this moment.

"…James." Lily whispered again.

He tilted his head back and stared at her crookedly. Lily fidgeted under his gaze as she twisted her once vivid red hair studying how it faded into a pale rose.

James smiled at her. He wanted to tease her. He had always wanted to tease her when she was being impatient. But years of experience had taught him not to tease Lily when she was keyed up with worry.

"He will be here." He sighed, swinging around completely.

"But James…" Lily started worriedly.

"Did you know, I didn't always know Padfoot's birthday," James mused quietly.

Lily frowned. She had never thought – never realized – that there had been a moment when James didn't know what day Sirius Black had been born. But of course, no matter the legend, the marauders had not always been mates.

"But you knew first year…" Lily answered stupidly.

"… We got lost looking for cakes, we didn't know which staircases went up and which went down back then." James chuckled. "But well, if you'll remember we didn't go missing until the afternoon."

"You lot were lost for hours, McGonagall had just called for a search party when you prats walked back into the common room covered in frosting and crumbs." Lily smiled at the sharpness of the memory, as if it had happened yesterday and not a whole lifetime ago.

"It was the only year we didn't have a full day celebration for his birthday."

James sprung out of the window, landing perfectly next to her. She leaned into his shoulder, immediately, seeking him in a reactive movement.

"That's right." She frowned. "It was the mildest celebration you lads ever had. Marauder birthdays were day, even week, long affairs… March 27th, March 10th… the whole bloody month of March sometimes and then…" Lily bit down on her lip.

James blinked. He reached out instantly wrapping his arm around her, pulling her close to keep her safe. They didn't speak about the fourth marauder.

"He'll be here." James repeated firmly. "And then, we'll check on…"

The words remained lost between them as a large black dog trudged through the door. Meticulously, cautiously, so very unlike any Sirius Black that James could remember, Padfoot checked the hallway and closed the door.

"He's so thin." Lily choked. James could feel her breathing hitch but he couldn't remove his eyes from his best mate.

Padfoot was still a large black dog but even in the moonlight James caught the glimmers of gray hairs.

"Not enough to be old, in any case." James muttered to himself.

Using his nose, Padfoot clicked the locks on the door and James noticed the slowness of the movements. But it wasn't until a moment later, when in a fluid flourish of practiced magic Padfoot became Sirius that James noticed all the years between them.

Sirius stumbled, as if he wasn't use to walking on two feet anymore and James reached out. But the younger man's hand passed right through his mate's elbow, transparent and mockingly gleaming.

"He can't see us." Lily barely moved her lips as she reminded him.

"Right." James replied through gritted teeth. "Who's ever even heard of ghosts you can't see!"

"Muggles." Lily offered apologetically.

The couple watched as Sirius moved across the room, straight to the window where James had been perched before. He stood starring at the window for a full minute before he rested his torso on the sill, leaning in peculiarly echo of a younger Sirius.

"Cheers Prongs." Sirius murmured as he smuggled a tiny bottle out of the rags clothing him. The spicy smell of rough fire whiskey filled the night air as Sirius gulped down the entire drink.

"Cheers Padfoot." James whispered back reflexively.

Sirius smiled, as if he had heard him. The man relaxed as he slid down to sit on the ground. His black hair was as tangled and unkempt as his fur had been and James found himself counting each of the silver strands.

"You were a prat, you know." Sirius mumbled into the night.

"I do." James replied. Lily had moved out of her shadows but James remained rooted. She floated to the man, studying his every wrinkle and sad weariness.

"I had come up with this whole tale, coming up here to watch the Rugby game England was playing in Australia." Sirius sighed moving to push back the clumps of hair in his eyes.

"Check facts for your lies, Padfoot. Every marauder knows that." James half-heartedly chastised.

"But you bloody little know-it-all, went and checked all about Rugby and found out there wasn't a game at all. Ran up here to find me just sitting here." Sirius knocked his head back against the wall.

Lily had settled next to him. She was close enough to touch him, if only she could. James stared at his best mate and was struck with how much bigger this Sirius was to the first year one he had first seen here.

"I asked you what was wrong." James nodded. Remembering little Sirius with the round cheeks and bright dark eyes that sat on his school cloak with the same sadness as this man.

"Couldn't just leave it be, could you James?" Sirius laughed.

"You didn't mind, bugger. You wanted me to ask." James defended hotly.

"I didn't think you would care. I didn't know Flea and Euphemia then, not yet anyway, otherwise I would have known better. There was no way a Potter wouldn't make a fuss." Sirius inhaled deeply.

"What did he tell you?" Lily asked.

"That it was his birthday." James quirked a smile, remembering how exasperated his best mate had been. Sirius had been put out with James for being so nosey.

"You started pacing like McGonagall use to when we'd try to get out of detention by pleading innocence. I thought you were going to knock me a good one, for not telling you sooner." Sirius chuckled softly. He still had his head pressed against the wall and his eyes were shut so tight, Lily wondered if the man was trying to bring the memory to life.

"Didn't give me decent time to plan, you git!" James threw his hands up into the air and then did start to pace. Lily laughed at both men, having a conversation even when they didn't know it.

It was minutes or maybe even hours, Lily was never quite sure how time passed as a ghost, before Sirius spoke again.

"You know, I bought Harry a Firebolt for his birthday, it's a broom. World Class. Fastest one on the market." Sirius announced.

"Sirius Black, you bought my son a racing broomstick!" Lily jumped. She went to smack the man in the shoulder, only to have the force of an impact less blow send her tumbling. James laughed but moved quickly to help her, moving to just above Sirius.

"Had to make up for all the birthdays I missed." Sirius whispered apologetically. James stilled, holding Lily's elbow.

"It's all right mate." James said thickly.

"And here I am turning 34. It's been 13 years since I even thought about my birthday." Sirius had tears running down his cheeks now.

"I'm sorry Padfoot." James fell to the ground, sitting as close to Sirius as he dared without expecting to be able to feel his friend's warmth.

"I'm so sorry Prongs." Sirius choked back a sob.

"Whatever are you sorry for you stupid mutt?" Lily cried reaching out to Sirius.

"He promised to always celebrate his birthday, because he was important to me…" James explained weakly.

"No one else remembers anymore. How could I celebrate something for you?" Sirius wondered.

"I remember." James insisted.

"We remembered." Lily repeated.

"I suppose you do remember." Sirius smiled. "Lily too."

"Happy Birthday Padfoot." Lily and James said together, closing in on either side of Sirius hoping fervently he would feel their presence.

Sirius wiped his face with the rags that wrapped his wrist and stared around the dark room, right through his best mates. He took one last deep breath before transforming into a dog once again.

"You aren't alone, ever." James whispered.

"None of us are." Lily added quietly.


	2. November 3, 1972

**November 3, 1972**

It would be years before Minerva McGonagall forgot his birthday again. James Potter would spend those years theatrically claiming it was his doing that their Head of House remembered Sirius Black's birthday. But in fact, it was one of the only moments Minerva McGonagall could ever recall of Black alone.

He should have been writing lines but he wasn't.

The boy sat in his usual seat, in the last row to the left, even in an empty classroom. His dark head was bent over his parchment, giving off a perfect air of a told off second year, but he wasn't fooling her. The quill scratched furiously along near his elbow and Minerva tried not to be impressed with his impertinence. Most Hogwarts students didn't master that particular charm until the end of their third year, but Sirius Black was hardly most students.

"Mr. Black." Professor McGonagall sighed dropping her own quill and fixing the miscreant with a stern glare.

Sirius tossed his head back in what even McGonagall recognized as his signature move to remove the stray hairs not yet long enough to tuck behind his ear.

"Professor?" He quirked an apologetic grin that lack any repentance.

"Would you like a spot of tea?" Professor McGonagall strove to keep her expression stern.

"Tea?" Sirius gapped at her as if she has gone mental. Minerva immediately bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the boy's bewildered expression.

"Yes, Mr. Black. Tea." Professor McGonagall repeated exasperated. She tapped her wand at the hourglass on her desk. In an instant, a plush sitting chair was stationed in front of her large desk. McGonagall pointed at the chair with her wand giving Sirius a curt nod to further direct him before she swept back into her private office.

Sirius quickly shoved his stuff into his book bag and sauntered up to his indicated place of honor. The plush chair reminded him of his mother which made him uncomfortable; though he couldn't be sure that wasn't McGonagall's intent. The Transfiguration Professor settles a tea tray in front of him.

"Mr. Potter tells me it is your birthday." She states as she pours his cup of tea.

"Yes, I reckon he couldn't help himself." Sirius grumbles in frustration.

"He thought it would change my mind about your detention." McGonagall frowned. She pushed a cup of tea towards the boy and settles down in her seat once again.

"It didn't." Sirius shrugs and seems to push himself further into the chair.

Minerva had never known Sirius Black to make himself smaller. She had always noticed how he stood his ground, obstinately she had noted. Not even just three days before, when he had been standing in her office at three in the morning drenched in pumpkin guts and black cat hairs protecting his mates from her wrath over their Halloween Prank.

"No, I don't suppose it did." McGonagall sighed. "Why didn't you tell me? I suspect you had plans to celebrate with Misters Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew?"

"James had plans." He grumbled into his chest as he nervously reached out to grab his teacup.

"Mr. Black." Minerva tapped impatiently at her desk. "Speak up or don't speak at all."

"Sorry, professor." Sirius looked up at her anxiously before taking a sip of his tea.

McGonagall frowned at the boy. In all her years at Hogwarts, the Transfiguration professor had never met a child not excited by their birthday. But Sirius Black was hardly like most students.

Black was just a child until she really studied him. The short-cropped hair of his first year was almost completely grown out and the roundness of his once boyish cheeks had long since disappeared. The young Black was growing into his family's features, dark and elegant, mature before his time. His intense gray eyes gazed at her with only a glint of their usual mischief and suddenly Sirius Black appeared fully-grown.

"Sirius, how old are you today? She demanded sterner than she intended.

"13." Sirius replied morosely.

"Aren't you excited? I'm sure Mr. Potter has something extravagant planned, even after your detention." McGonagall shot a sharp glance towards the closed classroom door. She knew, without a doubt, the others were sitting in the corridor impatiently waiting for their partner in crime. She had threatened the rambunctious Potter with a ban from the first match if he so much as knocked on the door during Black's detention.

"He railed for hours about how I ruined his plans because I got caught, but James, he's quick…" Sirius trailed off taking another sip of his tea.

"To adapt, yes. Mr. Potter is adept at adapting to any mischievous endeavor you boys take interest in. But aren't you excited?" Minerva nodded.

"I have only celebrated my birthday once. I may not be use to it." Sirius explained uncomfortably.

"Once?"

"Last term. You remember professor, you told us off because we got lost looking for cakes." Sirius smiled.

"I have told you lot off far too many times to recall a specific time Mr. Black. But before, you must have celebrated with your family?" Minerva replied.

"My birthday was about honoring my parents, for bringing me into the Ancient and most Noble House of Black. Oh sure, there was gifts but I haven't met anyone else who got a Spanish Inquisition torture device for their tenth birthday." Sirius laughed as he set down his teacup and swung his legs over his armrest. He comfortably settled into having one arm around the back of the chair while using his other arm to balance off her desk.

"And what did your parents send as their gift this year?" McGonagall asked wearily.

"Oh nothing. I don't know if you've noticed Professor, but I'm a Gryffindor… I'm an even bigger disgrace than they could have imagined." Sirius laughed again and Minerva shuddered. It wasn't the boy's usual laughter the kind that rolled around the room and infected everyone in his presence this was a maniac and hallow bark.

"Sirius, don't you want to celebrate?" Minerva leaned forward pushing towards the boy a tin of opened ginger snaps.

"James wants to." Sirius replied casually taking one of the snacks. He tilted his head back and glanced at the closed door. There was a thump and muffled conversation, clearly an argument.

"Forget about Mr. Potter," McGonagall sighed. "What about you?"

"I can't forget James," Sirius frowned at her. "He believes it's important to celebrate. To him birthdays are a way to rejoice in a person. He made me promise, to always celebrate because I'm important to him."

"So because you are important to Mr. Potter…" McGonagall began.

"No. Because James is important to me." Sirius replied impatiently.

McGonagall studied the twitching boy, again. Sirius was a handsome, clever boy from an ancient and noble wizarding family that despite his upbringing didn't believe he was most important person in the world. Even second years not raised to believe they were royalty were self-centered at the times, especially on their birthdays. But Sirius Black was hardly like other students.

"Mr. Black," McGonagall sighed. "Did you have any help with the prank?"

"No." Sirius snapped his attention back to her. Not even willing to suggest through body language that his mates, who were now arguing quite loudly at the door, were involved.

"Mr. Potter is going to get himself banned from the first match if he keeps this up!" McGonagall all but shouted towards the door. The shouting died down.

"Professor?" Sirius sat up straighter.

"What is it?"

"Could I ask for a birthday present?" Sirius leaned forward. He smiled, a wide grin that reached his eyes, and his gray irises sparkled with what could only be described as calculated success.

"Sirius…" She began to shake her head.

"Could you not ban James from the first match? I know you haven't because we're playing Slytherin and he's a brilliant chaser..."

"PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL, PLEASE?" James hollered through the crack in the doors.

"He can't help himself." Sirius sighed.

"Sirius Black," Professor McGonagall sighed. She knew she would regret this moment for years to come. "I will give you a present, I will turn a blind eye to any activities which you and that lot outside my door get into for today. As long as no one is maimed, nothing is destroyed and no laws are broken. And only until midnight, do I make myself clear?"

Sirius laughed, his normal infectious roar, as he threw out a hand.

"You have got yourself a deal."

"Now get Potter away from my door before he makes me give him a week of detentions." McGonagall rolled her eyes. Sirius Black sprung up and towards the door. As he threw open the doors the boy looked back over his shoulder smiling.

"Thanks, Minnie." He winked before tumbling straight into James Potter.

Minerva McGonagall would always remember that November afternoon as the moment when she lost the weapon of severity with the marauders.


	3. November 3, 1981

**November 3, 1981.**

It had become a habit, like the others, like the man himself. This birthday was the first Remus Lupin had ever celebrated for a mate. November 3rd, Sirius Black's birthday had been a wonderful adventure, an extravagant escapade, and a dependable habit for over a decade.

What a bittersweet thing, Remus realized, that the first would become the last. He knew, had known that this birthday would be the last he would ever celebrate.

He didn't know how he had arrived. Motion had been happening for hours, days, maybe weeks without his consent. But the rough apparition left his knees quaking and his head reeling in a way he hadn't experienced since he was seventeen.

 _Inhale and focus... There's a good mate._

A faint echo stirred in the back of his mind and Remus shook his head violently. Plunging his wand back into his robes, he kept his glare trained on the ground as he stormed past the open garden gate. The young man refused to notice how the wood hung off its hinges unable to close properly. He refused to be confronted with harsh truths and harder realities.

 _Lean into it. Remember Moony, kick near the lock not at the lock itself. Drive your heel into the door…_

The instructions surfaced in his mind instantly, almost before Remus even registered the surprise of seeing the front door closed. In a fit of rage, he pushed one heel into the peddles of the path and pushed the other into the fading red door.

He had only been indulging them, when they insisted on teaching him how to break down a door like a muggle. But they had insisted, in that obnoxious and unrelenting way of theirs, that the skill would be useful. So Lupin kicked at the wood, repeatedly, trying to kick the patient voice of Padfoot away as the wood splintered and the door creaked open.

It is dark and the stench of death hangs heavily in the air. But he couldn't, or wouldn't accept what his eyes refuse to settle on and with a reckless abandoned defined by marauders he runs into the cottage.

Swishing his wand the window shutters fly open, allowing light to pour into a cozy sitting room. A game of wizard's chest is set up in one corner, the pieces fidgeting to finish the game. _Useful Potions for New Mothers_ lies still open to its reader's last page over the arm of a plush armchair. A familiar pair of quidditch boots lay forgotten near the fireplace with mud still drying on them. The picture of a home waiting for life to continue.

Crunching glass under his foot draws his attention.

 _James died first._ That's what the Daily Prophet had said.

Remus suddenly drops to his knees as the reality hits him. Tiny shards of glass push through his trousers and pierce his skin as he chokes back a sob.

"James. Your glasses." Lupin cries helplessly. He scrambles to find the old rims, the ones he was sure he saw James in last. Bits of glass prick against his hands and he can feel the overwhelming grief bubbling in his chest. He is crying again, he can feel the familiar damp of his cheeks.

James Potter is dead. Remus howls, a wolfish and wild sound of sadness ripping through him as he gives up searching for what will not be found.

Lupin knows the stillness is a mistake that if he doesn't start moving again, he might die in the same spot as his mate had from the grief of it all. It is only when he stops, when the habitual haze isn't propelling him forward, that everything becomes unbearable.

It's the meowing that saves him. Jerking up his head he searches for the source of the sound.

 _We've got a kitten._ Lily had written. _James pretends to hate it._

"I believe Prongs was allergic and afraid to tell you." Remus whispers as the kitten wobbles out from one the quidditch boots.

Lupin scrambles across the floor, letting his palms still drag along the broken glass, as if it might be the last way he will ever feel James Potter again. His hands are aching and bleeding when he reaches out for the kitten.

"What's your name? Something ridiculous?" Remus croons.

He picks up the kitten as he stands. Tucking the creature into the crook of his elbow, the purring begins almost instantly and it brings the young man a strength, a steadiness, a calmness in knowing he is not alone any longer.

"Daffodil, was it?" Remus forces a jovial tone. An angry meow replies.

"No, then. You're rather gray, Stormy?" He tries. The angry meowing continues, even as the purring intensifies.

"Are you hungry?" Remus moves to the kitchen. He doesn't dwell on the baby bottles, or the half-finished wine bottle sitting on the counter that looks suspiciously like Sirius' favorite vintage. Instead the man throws open the cabinets, with a false joy and hope, at seeking to find something other than a haunting emptiness.

But then a darting mouse.

 _Would you eat me when you're a werewolf, do you think Moony?_

The memory roars to life without permission. Months underground, with only the recollections of his friends to keep him company make it impossible to ignore them now. Peter Pettigrew, round face with cheeks puffed out in agitation.

 _An index finger is all that was found, among twelve dead muggles._ That's how the Daily Prophet had described him in the end.

Lupin jolts at the vision dancing in the unwelcomed tears and slams the cabinet shut.

The kitten jumps from his arms and saunters out the open window.

"Decided you'd best find your own food?" He muses. But he doesn't stop his own search, throwing open the pale mint fridge.

Pumpkin juice. Two eggs.

His eyes move over the regular items quickly, registering favorite foods or regular habits. A jar of blackberry jam that James had to have every morning for his scones, or the chunk of cheddar cheese that was Lily's preferred midnight snack. And then, right there, sits a cake.

Lupin greedily reached out for it, pulling out the treat. Covered in fluffy pink buttercream frost, the kind that would have made Sirius loudly protest but that he would have secretly loved. The cake smells freshly baked, enchanted to keep perfectly, in what was likely one of the last spells Lily ever cast.

They had planned this, James and Lily, a celebration of their shared habit. The war and the danger be damned.

 _Padfoot can say he doesn't want to celebrate until he's blue in the face, but he doesn't get a say in the matter._

Every year James Potter had said those words. For a decade, this day had been a marauder high holy day.

"Accio candles!" Lupin summons the sparklers, the kind they had used on Sirius' seventeenth birthday.

He flicks and flips his wand, casting every summoning non-verbal spell he can form in his mind. Streamers and banners, fire whiskey, gifts, a record player jumping to life, everything set for a party.

Mere minutes later, Remus Lupin stands huffing amidst the festivities. Red and gold streamers hanging above him, a glittering banner floating around him, a small stack of gifts laying at his feet. The record player crackling for a moment before that blasted ABBA record that was playing in every club in London starts – Super Trouper.

A wand flick and the record scratches, in a way that Lily might never forgive.

 _She died defending her infant…. the boy who lived._ The Daily Prophet had heralded.

The piano melody begins of the track that Sirius and James belted out drunk to a bouncing and giggling Harry on his first birthday months before. When Remus had seen them, all of them, last.

"I don't want to talk about…."

One of the blondes from ABBA, Remus never could remember their names, sings and the lyrics bring on a rage.

"You baked HIM a cake, before he BETRAYED YOU!

Remus roars as he smashes the cake into the mint fridge door.

"ALL HE LEFT OF WORMTAIL WAS HIS FINGER!"

In a fury he rips and tears at each of the gifts, allowing the tears and anger to blind him. He destroys them.

"HOW COULD YOU BETRAY US?"

He lights sparklers, and sets the remains of each gift on fire.

"YOU ALL LEFT ME HERE! To read in the BLOODY DAILY PROPHET how all my mates… how all of YOU had died!" Remus heaves a sob.

Prongs was dead.

Wormtail was dead.

Padfoot was…

He was alone.

The last marauder.

Taking a shaky breathe, Lupin mutters a clearing spell.

 _Never look back, that's when you give up how you are going to miss them._

A teasing confident Padfoot echoes in his mind and Moony knows he will never quiet the memories. Leaving the cottage, he doesn't look back.

"Happy Birthday, Padfoot." The wind whispers as the last marauder apparates.


	4. November 3, 1973

**November 3, 1973**

Peter Pettigrew hadn't noticed it first year, hadn't questioned it second year and by now had learned not to question the eccentric habits of his mates. But even Peter couldn't quite ignore the oddity of Sirius Black embracing being the center of attention every day – except on his own birthday.

Sirius had a tendency to disappear on this day in a way that drove James stark raving mad.

"AGAIN! EVERY. YEAR. WHERE IS HE?" James roared at the empty bed, swiping his wand angrily at the confetti falling for no one. The bed was perfectly made.

"It looks like he made the bed for you, at least." Peter yawned sleepily as he shoved his fists against his eyes. James growled and squinted at his mate. But Peter, Remus thought, was just like an overgrown toddler, round around the middle and completely unaware of the dangers around him.

"Maybe he just didn't want to walk around with glitter in his hair all day. You know how Sirius is about his hair." Remus carefully joked as he softly shoved Peter out of a direct hex line. Peter stumbled out of the way and plopped back down into his own bed.

"BLACK! If you are in this room, stop being a Hufflepuff and come out. It is your birthday and we are going to BLOODY CELEBRATE IT!" James shouted as he spun around the room, crazily looking for any nook or cranny in which his missing mate might hide.

"I don't think he's here, James." Remus sighed patiently. James Potter had a quick to ignite temper and he hated having his plans spoiled and it was usually Peter who ended up hexed. James kicked at Sirius' trunk and grabbed the beater bat laying on the ground and started swinging.

"He didn't seem like he wanted to celebrate much…" Peter squeaked, worrying if he said too much James would blame him for this mess.

"I don't care." James stated through gritted teeth as he took a swing at the posters of his bed.

"James," Remus sighed "breaking the bed won't make him appear."

"Why does he do this! It's his birthday!" James whined, as he dropped the beater bat. Peter fidgeted with his ear wondering if James really didn't know or just really didn't want to believe that anyone could dislike their own birthday.

"Sirius doesn't much like today, he's told us that." Remus was patiently explaining, as he pulled on a ratty old jumper.

"BUT he promised!" The young voice cracked, "Remus, he promised to celebrate."

James threw himself into Sirius' now messy bed and impatiently kicked his sock toe at one of the posters. There was nothing more sacred among the marauders than a promise, especially a promise to James.

"It is only sunrise, maybe he didn't think you'd get up this early." Peter suggested, following Remus' lead and starting to scrounge through his trunk in search of his favorite trousers.

"Pete's right, you are always the last one out of bed in the mornings." Remus laughed effortlessly teasing James. Peter still couldn't do that, tease James or Sirius. James perked up, shaking one of his hands through his hair in the way he did every time Lily Evans got within five steps of him. Peter suspected it was becoming much more habit than practiced gesture.

"He probably went to the astronomy tower, he likes it up there." Peter nodded stepping into his trainers. He wasn't the cleverest marauder, or the most handsome, or the most charming, but he was observant.

"Maybe I can still plan a party for tonight while he's up there." James yawned and stretched.

"He asked you not to. " Remus reminded, forever the patient and level headed one.

"Well, I asked him not to take off. So maybe this is what he gets." James pouted.

"Do you think he'll like the LP I got him?" Peter nervously questioned, as he pulled out the wrapped record.

"The one of the muggle band he's crazy for?" James grinned disbelievingly as he muttered a spell to dress himself magically.

"If we don't have to listen to it three times today, it would be a birthday miracle." Remus rolled his eyes. He was combing his fair hair, trying to swoop it off his forehead.

"He'll love it, Pete. Too bad I might kill him before he gets to listen to it." James rolled out of the bed and tumbled onto the floor. Remus stepped over the dramatic James to conjure a birthday banner.

"He's likely already heard It. And it's been on the muggle radio all summer." Peter argued.

"And you think the most ancient and noble house of Black listens to a lot of muggle radio, do you then?" James was poking around under Sirius' bed now.

The door creaked open and invisible footsteps quietly echoed. A resigned groan escaped the air, before a the perfect curls of Sirius Black popped into existence to glisten in the morning light. Peter was sure his hair was never going to look quite like that, on any morning.

"Good morning, men." Sirius' grin appeared, floating in the air, like the Cheshire Cat in the picture books Peter had once seen in a muggle nursery school.

"That's my cloak!" James pointed his wand and hissed a spell through his teeth. The invisibility cloak fell off of Sirius' shoulders and to the boy's feet. As the oldest, Sirius was the tallest of the marauders but not yet tall enough that the indivisibility cloak didn't drag.

"It's my birthday." Sirius shrugged unapologetically back at his best mate.

"You weren't here." James crossed his arms and stretched out his legs, still on the ground.

"It's 6:15 in the morning"

"We have plans for our plans!" James interrupted.

"James, you've never been up this early in your life." Sirius shrugged again. Remus laughed and nodded, twisting a Gryffindor scarf around his neck.

"You weren't trying to hide out and not celebrate?" James squinted his eyes at Sirius.

"You lost your glasses again?" Sirius sighed exasperated. "Accio eyeglasses!"

The black rimmed, stylish eyeglasses of James Potter flew through the air and Sirius Black caught them easily. The boy swaggered across the room and threw his arm out to help James up. Peter watched as Sirius carefully placed the eyeglasses on James' face, and counted exactly three seconds before James threw his arms around Sirius' shoulders.

"Stupid git." James muttered. "Happy Bloody Birthday."

"I wouldn't break my promise." Sirius whispered, just loud enough for Peter and Remus to hear. After first year, James Potter had made the marauders swear they would all celebrate their birthdays because they were important to him. Peter had found it strange until he realized the promise had always been about James and Sirius.

Before Hogwarts, before the marauders, Sirius Black had never had a good birthday. Sometimes the marauders wondered if Sirius had many good days at all. But for all his devil-may-care attitude, Sirius would do anything for James and James demanded Sirius allow the celebrations.

James believed the way to show a person you loved them was to celebrate them on the day of their birth. At first, James had celebrated the marauders like a child, selfishly imposing his likes upon his mates. But after eight birthdays and some chats with his mum, James learned how to celebrate not for his friends but with them. Which is how the clever third year had arranged for his best mate's 14th birthday to be their first ever Hogsmeade trip. Even Sirius Black was excited.

"Last year, you got detention." Peter pointed out.

"Because you couldn't put your wand away fast enough after those pumpkins exploded, prat." Sirius laughed stretching out his arm to catch Peter around the scruff of the neck. James reached out to catch Remus around an elbow and before the boys really knew what was happening, they were piled on the ground.

"Remus did you tire of all your defense notes and tear them up?" Sirius laughed picking a piece of confetti from Remus' shoulder.

"You wouldn't be passing Defense if not for my notes, Black." Remus shoved Sirius.

"Pete, you cast the confetti spell." James whispered conspiratorially. Peter laughed as he whispered the spell. As the confetti popped, James and Remus started singing Happy Birthday, loudly and slightly off key.

"If there's glitter in my hair Pete, I swear I'm going to hex yours to be a bright pink for at least a week." Sirius laughed.

The four boys roughed around for a couple more minutes before there was a loud aggravated knock. The sixth year, Fabien Prewett poked his wild red hair into the room and blinked owlishly at the group on the ground.

"If you blokes are going to keep arsing around at this ungodly hour, on the first Hogsmeade Saturday of term, at least go outside. I won't save you from Gideon if you don't bog off, even if it is your birthday Sirius Black."


	5. November 3, 1975

November 3, 1975

Remus Lupin didn't know when it had happened, but he was certain he was pissed. He could feel the heat on his cheeks and if he closed his eyes it felt like being on one of lakes near home during a storm. He was having a hard time remembering if he was standing, sitting or flying and if it weren't for the constant tapping against his knee, he was sure he would forget to breathe. What he couldn't forget was the reason for this predicament, the sixteenth birthday of one Sirius Black.

In the center of the room on a couch with a missing a leg, Sirius Black luxuriously stretched out. He had an arm draped around a muttering James to hold the other boy up while stretching out a leg across the coffee table as a cushion for a sleeping Peter. HIs other leg thrown over the armrest playfully tapping his toe to the music against Remus' knee.

"Padfoot, are you lashed ?" James slurred. Every strand of James' hair was sticking straight up, his eyes were bloodshot and his glasses were at a ridiculous angle.

"Maybe you should have some water?" Sirius tapped his wand and a glass floated up from nowhere. Remus curiously wondered if the glass might be considered food and thus impossible to conjure based on Gamp's Law.

"Maybe you should drink some water!" James shouted, trying to throw off the arm. Sirius ignored the flailing, in that infuriatingly cool and collected manner of his. How had the rest of them gotten so much more legless than him?

"Is it still Padfoot's birthday?" Peter mumbled from the table he had made a bed earlier.

"Sleep, Wormtail." Sirius shushed.

"Of course it is, isn't it mate? We're going to drink this…" James swiped at the air "…this here…"

"We finished that there Ogden's. And the wine." Sirius laughed, begrudgingly yet lovingly, in that way he did sometimes when he happened to be the mature one. So often they forgot, Sirius was the oldest.

"We did?" James blinked as his glasses fell off his face.

"Yes, I think that was before the rolling." Remus moaned.

"I'd blame the Witches Brew we nicked from Rosmerta." Sirius chuckled, grabbing James from the scruff of the neck like he might a puppy.

"That stuff…good." Peter yawned sleepily turning into Sirius' ankle and promptly falling back asleep.

"Did we open your presents?" James demanded, struggling against the tight fist Sirius held around the collar of his shirt.

"Yes. Pipe down you fool, drink more." Sirius murmured, now holding the glass against his friend's lips.

"Did we go flying? We had planned to go flying!" James kicked up a foot with enough force to lose his shoe.

"In this state, I think you'd break that ridiculous neck of yours. Then your mother would break my neck, mate. Right birthday present that would be." Sirius grinned.

"But Padfoot!" James whined, settling enough to lean his head into Sirius' shoulder. Sirius twisted his wrist just enough to see the time.

"It's after midnight, my birthday is over." Sirius winked at Remus.

"Is it?" James yawned.

"It is, and you promised to only fuss on my birthday." Sirius reminded.

"Why must you be so difficult! If I want to celebrate my best mates…" James sat up.

"You can wait until the next birthday. Wormtail would love a whole week of festivities. And Moony is just wild about a present a day for a month." Sirius sighed. James glared, his glasses forgotten on the couch between them.

Remus wanted to object, that there was nothing he might be less wild about than if James decided to shower him with a gift a day in March. It was frightening to think the prat might do it too. Remus had noticed how his mates bought him numerous extravagant birthday gifts each year. He knew what the idiots were about, trying to give him new robes along with the new books, or that year they chipped in for a broom. James and Sirius couldn't help themselves, really, but he had made them promise after third year. No more than two presents and never anything like the broom again.

"You promised." Sirius reminded. James huffed falling into Sirius' lap.

"Did you, at least, have a good birthday?" James muttered into his mate's knee.

"The best, Prongs. I promise." Sirius replied softly as James Potter finally fell asleep.

The record reached its end and a silence rippled. Without merriment the air pulsed with dirt and a sense of dread. The delipidated old shack was no place for a party, with its peeling wallpaper and broken furniture. But it was perfectly out of the way, nowhere near school grounds, for an illustrious and riotous night of debauchery– as James had put it.

Remus shudder at the stillness, pulling at the crimson jumper he wore, trying to collect warmth. He had forgotten, just like everything else, where they actually were. But the angry claw marks on the walls, and the half broken piano, and the glitter of wolf's hair on every surface were hard to miss.

Sirius threw his head back eyeing the record player accusatorily. A wand flick and a new vinyl played more muggle rock.

"Moony… I'm sorry." Sirius whispered at the ceiling, tapping his toe once against Remus' knee.

"Whatever for Padfoot?" Remus replied startled from his own thoughts.

"I know you don't," Sirius grumbled before lifting his head and starring at his friend. "You aren't fond of this place."

"It's not so bad…" Remus began.

"Don't put on a brave face for me. I'm sorry, I panicked when James suggested a party in the common room. I never meant to cause you any distress." Sirius shifted uncomfortably. The great Sirius Black, Gryffindor Beater, one of the legendary marauders was not very good at apologizing and even worst at admitting fear.

"Padfoot, it's been a miracle we've kept James from throwing you a party for the last five years. He threw me one last year and Peter one the year before. You know it's going to happen." Remus explained patiently. Breathing through his nose seemed to help stop the rocking.

"I know."

"What is it you are afraid of?"

"What if, James is the only one in the world that absurdly thinks birthdays are this important to celebrate?" Sirius cautiously asked.

"Even if he was, what does it matter?" Remus retorted back impatiently.

"What if no one else cares?"

"Are you afraid no one would come?" Remus nearly choked on his own laughter. Of all the rubbish things to be dense about. Sirius did not know he was popular. Wildly popular.

"They might not. Even if James was a bloody pestering git about it." Sirius huffed.

"Sirius Black, you listen to me, you are loved. Maybe even beloved. Certainly adored by at least three girls in third year, that Ravenclaw from Charms Club and even a first year Slytherin." Remus counted off his fingers, clumsily. "Definitely by most of our quidditch team, at least after last match… the Prewett brothers had a bet going on if you or James was actually McGonagall's favorite."

"You're her favorite." Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Just because I didn't stupidly get into a brawl with Severu, AGAIN, yesterday. Really Padfoot, how many times…" Remus started before Sirius held up his wrist with the watch on it.

"You promised, no pecking on my birthday."

"You lied to James." Remus reproached.

"For his own good….You forgive me then?" Sirius coughed quietly.

"Padfoot." Remus began thinking to explain but stopped. The pair of gray eyes looking at him didn't look quite as clear as they had been ten minutes before. There was a pinkish tinge to the face in front of him, a flush even, and Sirius was breathing as if he had just played a match. Sirius was finally off his trolley. Remus smiled triumphantly.

"I will forgive you as long as you forgive me when I accidently chunder on your fancy shoes."

"Just not the jacket."

"We're trading forgiveness for forgiveness, as marauders often do." Remus laughed.

"If you sick up on my jacket, you'll have to not only forgive me now but give me a free…detentions…Moony …in a knot?" Sirius slurred.

"Finally properly sloshed. Why'd it take so long?" James muttered popping one eye open.

"I'm older." Sirius groaned.

"Padfoot, next year you want us to throw you a party, don't you?" James asked.

"Seventh year. You can throw a party, you menace." Sirius threw his hands up.

"AND sixth year?" James pressed.

"Go back to sleep." Sirius patted James on the nose as he allowed his own eyes to close.

"Moony, you heard him say we could throw a party next year and seventh year didn't you?"

"I heard I could be sick on his shoes and his jacket." Remus shrugged resting his head on the arm rest of his chair. Peter snored.

"Happy Birthday, Padfoot." James yawned.

"Shut up, Prongs."


End file.
